


The Morning After

by The_Lonely_has_always_had_me



Series: The Third Law of Fluff [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, Martin POV, angst we don't know her, early season 1, fluff as a coping mechanism, not key for this fic but will be for future works in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lonely_has_always_had_me/pseuds/The_Lonely_has_always_had_me
Summary: His rising panic brought the nausea back full force as Jon just blinked at him for a long moment.  He was going to be fired while hungover and mostly naked on his boss’s couch...and yeah, okay when strung all together like that, it sounded much more deserved.-Or I buried myself in fluff to escape the world for a bit, and it just keeps getting scarier so I thought I'd put it out there in case anyone else wants to hide out in here with me.  There's plenty of soft pining to go around.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: The Third Law of Fluff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956958
Comments: 93
Kudos: 449





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a random thought of what Georgie would have been like without her encounter with The End, which was almost immediately followed by what would have happened if she was around in season 1 to call Jon on his bullshit with Martin much earlier. Those 2 ideas collided, and I ended up with almost 13k of the boys being all soft and vulnerable. This is not explicitly stated as No Powers/No Fears, but that is where my head was while writing it. I wasn't even sure I was ever going to post it; it was just a way to hold off the panic attacks each night and get away from the doomscrolling. It is nothing like my other writing. It is self-indulgent and silly, and I couldn't care less because I enjoyed the hell out of writing it. So I thought maybe I'd put it out here in case it could help someone else cope for even 1 night.
> 
> And am I already 20K into the prequel about the drunken shenanigans that led to this? You're damn right I am.
> 
> Series Title: Newton's 3rd Law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So for every bit of angst and feelings I catch for IRL Mr. Sims canon, I'm going to create reactionary fluff. And you know to just the world in general.
> 
> Rated for my liberal sprinkling of 'fucks' and other various curses. There is one very brief mention of Martin's mom; otherwise it's wall-to-wall fluff. Also, no matter what is momentarily insinuated, Tim is absolutely the best and should never be doubted.

Someone had shrunk his skull.

That was the only possible explanation for the amount of pain. Someone had shrunk his skull, and his brain no longer fit in the confined space. His head throbbed with an intensity that Martin would have sworn was audible.

He had not yet risked opening his eyes. He could see the sunlight glowing red through his eyelids and knew that was a hell he was not willing to venture into yet. He tried to force his sluggish mind through the process of figuring out where he was.

He remembered Tim’s party. He did not remember getting drunk exactly, but he also can’t pinpoint a portion of the night that he didn’t have a glass in his hand. He didn’t recall leaving the pub, but he had vague memories of a taxi and someone pressed close to him in the back.

Well, he certainly was alone now and on a couch, given the cushions at his back. Definitely not his own. His couch was lumpy and threadbare...and longer. This one was made of a soft material with deep, cozy cushions, but his legs hung over the arm from almost mid-calf. The plush pillow under his head smelled of tea and leather and...old paper, maybe? Books, old books, that was it. He knew someone who smelled of old books and tea.

He had a sudden flash of memory: Jon helping him out of the taxi, smiling up at him as Martin leaned heavily on him to remain on his feet.

His eyes flew open, and he bolted upright. He had a brief glimpse of a warm room with several bookshelves and a worn leather armchair covered with pillows and soft throws before the bright light streaming through the large windows opposite him stabbed directly into his brain. His stomach gave a distressing lurch at the sudden change in orientation.

“Fuck!” He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees, trying very hard not to be sick.

“You might want to take that a bit slower.”

Shit. That was indeed his boss’s voice.

“Martin...are you- um, do you need a bin or something?”

He shook his head slowly. No, he was most definitely not going to make this worse by vomiting in his boss’s living room. He made a vague motion towards the burning inferno that was obviously hanging directly outside the building. “Light,” he croaked.

“Oh, shit. Hold on, I’ll-” He heard shuffling footsteps, and with the rattling of curtains, the light finally dimmed. Martin cracked open an eye cautiously; it was now blessedly muted in the room. He lifted his head, already starting to mutter an apology when he got a proper look at Jon.

The words faded as he just stared. He was standing there, back lit by the diffuse light still filtering in around the edges of the thick curtains. His normally perfectly-coiffed hair hung loose around his face, and he was wearing a faded Radiohead t-shirt paired with fleece pants covered with- _Christ_ , were those cartoon cats? He looked...smoother somehow? Less angles and hard edges with his shoulders slumped down, instead of held rigid with tension. Martin wondered if it was the first time he’d ever seen Jon fully relaxed.

Perhaps not. His muddled brain offered up another image from the night before: Jon sitting across a booth from him, leaning into Sasha while grinning widely and laughing easily.

His eyes were drawn up to Jon’s face, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of that expression again. He wasn’t laughing, instead he was sleep-softened and mussed...and staring as well. They both flinched and looked away quickly.

“Better?” Jon’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat nervously.

“Yeah, thanks...Sorry for crashing on your couch. Guess I had more last night than I realized.”

Jon considered him for a moment and then waved dismissively. “It was my suggestion, and it was no trouble at all It’s all Tim’s fault really-”

Martin snorted and then rubbed his temple when the movement made his head pulse painfully. “It usually is.”

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed, then continued more quietly when Martin winced. “I meant to bring something for that. I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet. Hold on…” He trailed off as he disappeared from the room. Martin heard the rattle of a pill bottle as he returned. A moment later, he heard the slap of bare feet on tile from the kitchen behind him and the sound of the tap running. Jon set a small bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. Martin reached for them gratefully; he popped three of the pills in his mouth and washed them down with most of the water. He only then noticed that Jon had set something else on the table before walking over to the armchair and sinking down bonelessly into it. It was a neatly folded stack of his clothes. 

“He was very insistent on your glass staying full all night.”

Martin was distracted. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the clothes, trying to focus enough to figure out what was nagging him about the pile. “He had this stupid plan. Apparently thought getting me extraordinarily drunk would give me courage or something like that. Ridic-” His eyes went wide, and the words died on his tongue.

The pile was made up of the clothes he’d worn to the party last night; nothing special about that. The issue was that it consisted of _all_ the clothes he’d worn to the party, except- He looked down at himself. Somehow he’d been sitting on Jon’s couch, speaking with the man himself this whole time without realizing that he was shirtless with just a thin blanket pooled in his lap, the waistband of his paisley boxers peeking out above it. He let out an undignified squeak and snatched the cover up to his chin.

Jon had half of his face hidden as he tried to hold in the laughter, but Martin could see how the grin made his eyes scrunch.

“You could have said!” _God, why does my voice have to get so high when I’m stressed?_

Jon covered his face, but it did little to muffle the laughter. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” he finally managed a little breathlessly. There was a glint of what Martin could have sworn was mischief in his eyes before he added casually, “Besides, it didn’t bother me last night. Why would I care this morning?”

He knew he was staring again. He was completely aware that his jaw was hanging slightly open and that he probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t actually do anything about it. He had to still be drunk. There’s no way that Jonathan Sims was... _flirting_ with him?

Just as he had almost convinced himself that he was not misreading the situation, Jon’s smile disappeared with a small flinch, and he seemed to regret saying it. Of course. He hadn’t really thought there could be anything to the words, had he? The man had barely spoken to him in weeks, and before that, he’d made his feelings about Martin’s competence well-known. Now, Jon had actually tried to make a joke- to be nice to him, and he’d made it weird. He gathered up the stack of clothes, not daring to look back up from where they were clutched to his chest. “I’ll get dressed and get out of your way. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than deal with me on your day off.”

“N- wait, Martin! I didn’t put those there so you’d go...Stay. You don’t look like you are in any condition to navigate your way across London yet.”

“I’ll be fine.” His first attempt at standing did not exactly support this statement.

“Please stay.”

He finally looked up, and Jon was halfway out of his own chair, as if he was going to physically stop Martin if needed. He flopped back against the pillows once Martin made no further moves to flee. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough now that he could see the flush in Jon’s cheeks. “That may not have come out- I didn’t mean to insinuate-” Jon took a deep breath and looked down at where he was nervously picking at a loose thread on one of the throws. “Nothing happened last night...if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What? No! No, I know that. A lot of last night is fuzzy, but I think I’d remember that.”

_Stop talking; please just stop talking._

He watched the blush creep down Jon’s neck, but at least the smile was starting to return. 

“What did happen? I mean-” He looked down at himself. “ _How?_ ”

That brought the grin back full force. “Oh, that was all you. I went to find a blanket bigger than these and came back to find a trail of clothing into my living room.”

Martin let the clothes fall to his lap as he buried his face in his hands. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t...Please tell me I didn’t do anything, um, inappropriate?”

“Oh, not at all. You were a perfect gentleman about it. You were just standing there.” Martin thought the giggles were just a little uncalled for. He wanted to sink into the couch and simply cease to be. Jon had walked in to find him almost naked. In his living room. _Christ, could this get-_ “When I suggested that it might not be a good idea to, um, remove anything else, you looked at me like I had just said the most scandalous sentence you’d ever heard and said ‘Jon! I would never!’” Jon tried to emulate Martin’s voice, but he was fairly certain that the deep timbre couldn’t even reach the octave that he had likely achieved. 

Martin’s head had basically disappeared between his shoulders now as he shrank down into himself. “I’m so so-”

“Martin, it was adorable!”

His face snapped up to see if Jon was teasing him, but no, there was nothing malicious or mocking about the smile. Jon finally noticed his staring. “What?”

His filter must have completely abandoned him this morning, because he found himself blurting out, “You’re smiling at me...and we’ve been in the same room for like 10 minutes now and you haven’t rolled your eyes or yelled once...and I’m pretty sure there’s a long list of words you’d use for me, but ‘adorable’ isn’t on it.”

His rising panic brought the nausea back full force as Jon just blinked at him for a long moment. He was going to be fired while hungover and mostly naked on his boss’s couch...and yeah, okay when strung all together like that, it sounded much more deserved. Instead Jon surprised him by sighing and giving him a lop-sided, somewhat sheepish smile.

“You really don’t remember much of last night, do you?” He seemed almost sad about that. “But, regardless, yeah, that’s entirely fair, and it’s definitely a conversation that needs to happen. I am going to need caffeine first though. I don’t really have any food here. I’d lie and say that shopping was on my weekend to-do list, but you’ve seen my takeaway leftovers and instant lunches. I do however always stay stocked on tea and coffee. Can I make you some tea?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line,” Martin quipped before his brain could get in his mouth’s way, and _oh_ , there was that laugh again. Jon was still looking at him expectantly. “Oh, uh, yes! Please.”

Jon nodded and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Martin rubbed his temples and groaned when he opened his eyes and realized that he was still shirtless and that the blanket had fallen almost to his navel again. Cursing quietly, he pulled the t-shirt out of the pile and tugged it over his head. His nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of alcohol. There was a dark stain covering the majority of the right side of his chest. Tim. Tim had leaned over to whisper something to him and had spilled half his glass on him. Perfect. So now he was no longer half-naked but looked like an absolute slob.

“Two sugars, right?” Jon called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed out of habit. It wasn’t correct, but he’d manage.

Jon handed him a mug over the back of the couch before folding himself back into the armchair, legs tucked under him at angles that looked almost impossible, at least to Martin, whose large limbs refused to be anything other than uncoordinated and consistently in the way. He could smell the coffee in Jon’s mug, which appeared to be from an Oxford Pride fest. He looked down at his own, first noticing that there was not nearly enough milk in it, and tilted it to get a better look at the logo on the side. “I love _What the Ghost_! I didn’t know you listened!”

There was something behind Jon’s smile that Martin couldn’t quite place, but he just shrugged and responded, “I’ve listened to a bit of it. That’s just some promotional merch that got forced on me.”

“Oh. Well, you should give it another try. The host really goes all in on her research. I think you’d appreciate her work.”

Again Jon’s smile was almost conspiratorial, like he knew something Martin didn’t but wasn’t keen to let him in on the secret. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They both looked down at their mugs, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Martin took a sip of his still-too-warm tea and grimaced at the bitter sting of too much steeping and not enough milk or sugar. Luckily, Jon did not look back up at him till Martin had stopped shuddering.

“I owe you an apology, Martin. I’ve known it for a long time, and I’ve just been...well, too much of a stubborn ass to just do it.”

“You really don’t have-”

“I really do though. I let a grudge that was, honestly, not your fault at all affect how I treated you, and when I finally admitted to myself that it was all unwarranted, I just avoided you instead of owning up to it.”

“Grudge?”

Jon sighed and took a sip from his own mug, wincing a little as he swallowed. Martin really did have to tell him one of these days that he was making his drinks wrong. “When I accepted the position, Elias told me I could take three employees with me to build up the Archives staff again. I was narrowing down the list of who to ask when he called me into his office to tell me that I’d be choosing two people and that he’d already informed you that you would be taking the third position and you’d accepted.”

“I- I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Jon. I never would have said ‘yes’ if I had.”

“He phrased it like you hadn’t had much more choice in the matter than I did.”

“Well...no, not really. He definitely insinuated that if I wanted to stay at the Institute long term, I should take the position. But still, I wouldn’t have accepted it if I’d known he was breaking his word to you!”

“You would’ve- what? Quit rather than hurt my fragile ego?”

“Yes- Well, no, not the way you phrased it. But you took the job thinking you’d get to build the department you wanted, and instead you got stuck with me!”

Jon shook his head. “You really are going to make this as hard as possible, aren’t you?”

“How?” Martin asked, truly baffled.

“Just...you, Martin. You’re so damn nice! How do you not hate me? I was awful to you. You made a few mistakes when you first started, and instead of doing my damn job and training you properly, I used it to justify why I was so unreasonably angry about you being there. You _should_ hate me by now, and you don’t. In fact you’re such a good person that you’re apologizing to me and saying you should have quit rather than have me mildly inconvenienced.”

“You were stressed and overworked, and I knew that. I knew there was a reason for it beyond just my screw-ups. And it’s not exactly a mild inconvenience to work with someone you genuinely dislike.”

Jon frowned at him and leaned forward a little. “Please don’t think that. I never disliked you. That was the problem. I wanted to, but the harder I tried, the nicer you were to me...which just made me lash out even more. Because I’m an asshole and didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that I enjoy being around you.” Jon had looked down at the cup in his hand, but Martin could see the slight curl at the corner of his lips as he said the last part.

“You do?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry I ever made you think differently. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations with Elias and my own insecurities on you.” Martin looked at him questioningly, and Jon bit his lip before admitting, “Everyone knows that this should have been Sasha’s job, and I’ve accepted that. You weren’t with us at that point, but I did talk about that at the party last night with Tim and Sasha. I think that we’re okay now. But that first day...I was so overwhelmed by all of the mess, and felt like every move I made was being watched to compare to what she would have done better. Then I got a look at your CV and realized that I had two assistants that should have gotten the job over me. Hell, even Tim if he focused long enough would be just as qualified as me. I just...I felt like such an imposter.”

“I think you’re doing a great job.” He smiled, trying to hide the way the guilt twisted in his chest. His forged CV had been one of the reasons Jon had been so miserable for the last few months.

Jon hung his head and laughed helplessly. “Thank you. I’ve been a terrible boss- hell, a terrible person to you, and you’d be entirely justified in not forgiving me for it...But I am sorry, Martin, and I promise it will be different from here out.”

“Of course, I forgive you. A-and thank you for saying all that.” Martin rushed forward before he could overthink his words, “I really do want to be better at my job. Could you, um, help me with that, maybe? I want to do more, and I’d like it very much if you could show me how.”

“Somehow I think that doing what I should have been all along is the least you could ask of me.”

“I’m just really glad to know that Elias was the problem. That it wasn’t, you know, just _me_ in general.”

“Of course it wasn’t you; you’re lovely- to, uh, everyone. I’m sorry it took me so long to say something.” Jon finished off his cup. “Is the tea helping at all?”

It tasted terrible, but actually the small boost of caffeine and the warmth seeping into his chest had eased the pounding in his skull quite a bit. He nodded and took another sip. Over halfway through the cup, he’d finally acclimated to the bitterness enough not to cringe.

“We really should get some food in you though. If you’re up for it, there’s a little diner right around the corner. It’s nothing fancy, but their strawberry waffles are rather legendary around here. I usually spend at least one morning each weekend there.”

As enticing as the idea of not just spending more time with Jon but also getting a glimpse into his life outside the Archives was, Martin was acutely aware of his stained shirt and the reek of old liquor and dried sweat. “I’d like that, but I’m not sure that I’m really fit to be seen with. Pretty sure I smell too.”

Jon snorted. “Trust me. This is not the kind of place where anyone will care. If you’re wearing trousers instead of sweats, you’re already borderline over-dressed. But if you are worried about it, your jacket is still clean so you can wear that over the shirt. Either way, I wouldn’t mind being seen with you.” He smiled again, but it was softer than the previous ones. He realized that he had seen the same expression last night. Jon had still been sitting with Sasha, but he was smiling at Martin- not the broad grin he’d been flashing all morning, but something almost shy. His heart had been hammering in his chest when he’d returned it. That was when Tim had spilled the drink on him, breaking the moment.

He was pulled from the memory when he realized Jon was talking again. “It was a bit rude of Tim to spill his drink all over you and then disappear with...damn, I’ve forgotten her name again. It was the new girl from the library-”

“He what?”

“Yeah, I saw him leaving the pub with her after I sent him to get a towel for your shirt...Martin? Are you alright? You look-”

“I can’t _believe_ he’d do that!”

“Oh! I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t realize that, um, you were interested in... _Tim_?” Martin could read the confusion clearly in his tone and expression, but he was fairly certain there was disappointment there too.

“What? God, no! Tim is, well, _Tim_ , but not at all the kind of guy I go for.”

Jon’s head actually cocked to the side as he tried to puzzle through his words. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Martin had seen. “Then her? But you stated rather emphatically that you were gay last night...so no?”

Jon kept dropping these little bombs in his mind that absolutely broke him for a few seconds. Finally, he managed to get his mouth working again. “Okay, let’s put a pin in that, because I have no memory of that conversation at all. But no, I’m not interested in Emma. She’s lovely, but um, very much _not_ my type. It’s just that she broke up with her fiancé right before starting her new job with us. She found out that he’d been cheating with one of her best friends for almost two years, and she’s a mess over it obviously. I invited her so she could have some fun and meet new people, not so...What?”

Jon was looking at him strangely. “How in the world do you know all that? She’s been there for two weeks. I haven’t even bothered to learn her name yet, and you know her whole story. How? Am I really that bad at _people_?”

“Umm, no comment on that part, but I know because I still have lunch every Tuesday with the library ladies- the four older women that work in the library. They’ve all worked there for at least fifteen years so they are pretty close to each other. They tend to shut out newbies for a while. Took me almost six months to make any headway with them at all, and if you thought I brought you a lot of tea, just imagine how much I had to make to impress four old ladies.”

Jon chuckled. “I’m surprised you got any other work done.”

“Must have done the job though, because they wanted me to keep coming up to see them after I transferred. They liked that I would chat with them about the hot guys and that I knew most of the gossip since people like to talk to me. Which is how I knew all that about Emma. I noticed that the ladies were doing their usual freeze out of the new girl; so I went to check on her. She broke down and told me all of it. I suggested that the next time she was working alone with Beverly, she should let some of it slip, maybe with a tear or two to really snag her. Bev is the softie of the group, and if she broke, they’d all swoop in to take care of ‘the poor dear.’ Worked for me. Bev only had to catch me after a phone call with Mum once and the whole group adopted me.”

He didn’t catch what he’d said until he noticed the concern on Jon’s face. “Martin-”

“Let’s not talk about that, okay? It’s a good morning, despite the headache, and I’d rather not ruin it yet.”

“Of course we don’t have to, and you’re not going to ruin anything. That’s my job.”

Martin huffed out a laugh but didn’t look up from the dregs of tea left in his cup. Jon was quiet for a bit, and when Martin looked up, he found he was being watched with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“I was just trying to imagine you having a salacious conversation with a group of little old ladies.”

Martin laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the things they say, especially about Tim. He flirts with them any time he’s up there, that’s why he gets all his requests twice as fast as the rest of us.”

“Ah, that explains it, and why my requests seem to take longer than everyone else’s. Probably no surprise I did not make a great first impression with them.” He returned Martin’s grin at this. “You know, it has been a good morning, and it’s going to keep on being one. Because you are going to go use my shower, and then I’m going to introduce you to some life-changing waffles.” Jon hefted himself out of the chair and took Martin’s mug. “Now come on; I’m starving. It’s down the hall, through my room...Just don’t judge me for the mess. I don’t exactly have visitors over. Ever really. And feel free to use my shampoo and such.”

Jon had headed into the kitchen so Martin didn’t have to hide the blush that rose on his cheeks. Jon had invited him to stay; he’d said it earlier. Apparently, this wasn’t something he did often. _Still doesn’t mean anything. Just being friendly; do not ruin this by getting weird about it._

“Okay…” he called out as he gathered the rest of his clothes to his chest again and started towards the hall. Of course, Jon popped his head around the corner just as Martin stepped around the barrier of the couch.

“Courage for what?”

“Huh?” was the most eloquent response he could manage while standing frozen in just his boxers and a t-shirt.

“You said earlier that Tim’s plan was to get you drunk to give you courage. What were you trying to do?”

“Oh!” One of Martin’s nervous tics was to rub the back of his neck- which he did now. His socks promptly fell out of the bundle in his arm. He ducked to grab them quickly, but only managed to snag one on the first attempt. His brain took offense to the rapid, successive changes in orientation, and he stumbled a bit when he finally righted himself. Jon was grinning at him again. “Oh, hush. I’ll get enough of that from Tim later. He...Holy hell, it actually worked, didn’t it?”

Jon arched an eyebrow, still smiling at him.

Martin almost moved to rub at his neck again, but he caught himself, instead clutching the clothes tighter to his chest. “Well, for my part at least. I’m sure Tim had other goals in mind, but I just...I was just hoping I could talk to you about what went wrong.”

Jon stepped forward and leaned against the door frame. The smile was gone. “I had intimidated you so much that you needed to get drunk to have a conversation with me...about work.”

“Well, I mean...it was more than work. I thought you really didn’t like me, you know, as a person.”

His chest tightened as Jon’s expression fell even further. “I really did almost fuck this up completely, didn’t I?” His whisper was strained.

Martin took a step towards him without noticing. “That’s the important part though! The ‘almost.’ Almost means that there is still time to fix it.”

Jon cautiously gave him that small, shy smile again. 

_God, he’s beautiful._ Martin had spent a long time trying to convince himself that the small flutter in his chest was nothing more than an inconvenient attraction to his boss, but when he’d found himself thinking of Jon more often outside of work, he’d finally had to admit that it was at the very least a full-blown crush if not something decidedly more complicated.

“I really don’t deserve how nice you’re being.”

“Everyone deserves kindness, Jon.”

“You certainly do. And if you are so determined to give me a second chance, then I’m going to make sure I get it right this time.”

Martin ducked his head when he felt the prick of tears. _Don’t you dare cry right now!_ “Thank you.”

There was a beat of tense silence before Jon’s stomach growled loudly. Martin laughed and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Right! I’ll hurry.”

Jon’s bedroom was somehow even messier than his office in the Archives. Martin counted four books on the nightstand, all with scraps of paper marking his place in each. It wasn’t until he was stepping into the shower that the thought occurred to him. _Nope, not thinking about that. Stop thinking about that!_

He’d just figured out the dials and got the water going when there was a knock. The door cracked open, and Jon called in, “Sorry! I forgot to give you a towel. I’m just going to turn my back and step in to set it on the counter, okay?”

“Yep.” Of course his voice cracked on the one syllable he tried to utter. He watched the vague shadow of a person through the frosted glass door, move quickly across the room. He almost groaned when Jon stopped before stepping out.

“Is the hot water not working?”

“No, it’s fine! I just thought that a cold shower might clear my head a bit- wake me up more, you know?”

That was it. It was definitely not because his traitorous brain would not stop thinking about being naked in a place where Jon was usually naked. Or that now he was thinking about Jon being naked while he was in the room with Martin.

Oh, God. Jon in the same room _while_ naked...He pressed his forehead against the cold tile and prayed that Jon would leave him to have a panic attack in peace.

“Makes sense I guess.”

The moment the door closed behind Jon, Martin cranked the water even further towards frigid.

* * *

“You really don’t remember the conversation? Tim’s excitement when he found out-”

“Oh! He called you his ‘bi-buddy!’”

Jon covered his face. “Jesus, somehow that sounds even worse today than it did last night.” The morning was more brisk than they had expected, and Jon quickly tucked his hands back into his pockets. He’d traded the band shirt for something equally threadbare (he was pretty sure the faded print said ‘The book was better.’), and the flannel bottoms had been switched out for jeans that were just a bit tighter than Martin’s heart could reasonably take. His hair was barely contained in a messy ponytail. He hadn’t grabbed a jacket on the way out, and Martin could see the goosebumps on his forearms. Luckily, he hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said it was right around the corner.

Jon held the door for him, and Martin blushed as he thanked him. The diner was rather crowded, mostly with people who looked to be in worse shape than Martin had been earlier. The majority were indeed in various forms of pajamas. Jon spotted two seats at the counter as a couple of goth kids vacated them, and he grabbed Martin’s wrist to lead him through the crowded tables. Martin hoped he couldn’t feel how his pulse had jumped at the touch. Jon had just managed to catch a waitress to order two cups of tea when someone called out from behind them.

“Jon! I thought that was you!”

Jon sank a little and muttered, “Of course she’s up this early _today_.” Martin turned with him to find a woman, likely around their age, dodging between chairs to get to them. Her hair was dyed a brilliant, unnatural red, and her grin was wide and infectious. His breath hitched as she planted a solid kiss on Jon’s cheek without hesitation when she reached them.

“Georgie,” Jon greeted her with a smile. Ah, he had vague memories of Jon speaking at some point last night about an ex-girlfriend that he was still friends with. “You’re up earlier than normal and disturbingly happy about it.”

She grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him. “I ought to be happy after how my evening turned out. I can almost forgive you for abandoning me.” She turned, leading their eyes to a table halfway across the diner, where another young woman with messy blonde and blue hair was drinking a coffee reverently. She waved somewhat hesitantly when she noticed the three of them.

“Wait...is that the You-Tuber you were on the panel with last night?”

Georgie hummed an affirmative, giving the other woman a suggestive smile that made her blush and duck her head to stare at her coffee again. “She’s _way_ cooler than I expected.”

Martin was pulled from his momentary relief when Georgie gave him a very obvious side-eyed consideration. “Looks like we’re both here for morning-after breakfasts.”

She grinned as they both started sputtering at the same time. “No, no! Just breakfast!” Jon finally managed. “Just plain, old breakfast.”

Martin hoped that Jon did not catch his squeak over the din of the restaurant when Georgie grabbed his chin and turned his head side to side. “And just why not? He’s super cute and exactly your type.”

Jon probably had heard him, because he definitely caught the noise Jon made at her words. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Be that as it may-” _Wait! What?_ “this is in fact a _coworker_ , Georgie.” He gave her a sharp look, but she just shrugged.

“One does not necessarily preclude the other, Jon.” Martin didn’t realize she was still holding his chin till she let go of it to fold her arms across her chest and glared at Jon. “So you are telling me that you are having breakfast with a _coworker_...on a Saturday...a block from your flat...when you are in your ‘please look at my ass’ skinny jeans and he is obviously in last night’s clothes...but it is not a morning-after breakfast?”

“Yes,” Jon answered dead-pan, despite the fact that his cheeks were flushed a dark red.

“I, uh,” Martin stuttered a bit when her scrutiny turned on him, “I had a bit too much to drink at Tim’s party last night, and Jon was kind enough to offer his couch so that I could sleep it off.”

He jumped as Georgie gasped and pressed her hand to her heart. “Jonathan! You not only abandoned me, but you went to a party without me?! You know how I adore a good party. But the important part here is that you left your couch, on a Friday night, no less!”

“You needn’t sound quite so shocked,” Jon bristled.

“And when was the last time you went out on a weekend and had fun? Museums don’t count!” she added as soon as Jon tried to respond. He glared at her and shut his mouth. She rolled her eyes in playful exasperation and looked at Martin. “I swear sometimes he’s an eighty-year-old trapped in a not-even-thirty-year-old’s body. No wonder he’s going grey already.” She tugged at the silver strands at Jon’s temple, and he batted her hand away.

Martin giggled, and Jon’s glare shifted over to him. “Don’t you encourage her!” He bit his lip trying to stifle the laugh, and Jon grinned at him before turning back to Georgie. “Martin is a few years older than us; maybe he appreciates my homebody ways.”

 _Oh._ The guilt rose up sharp in his chest. He’d had to fudge his birth year for the fabricated work experience to make sense. He was actually only about six months older than Jon. With a start, he realized that they were both staring at him.

“I don’t believe it,” Georgie stage-whispered to Jon without taking her eyes off of him. “Look at that skin!”

Martin blushed and had to look down at his hands.

“Wait- Martin? This is _Martin_?!” She said his name as if she knew it. When he looked up, he found the two of them staring at each other. Jon’s eyes were narrowed in what appeared to be a warning.

“Interesting…” She drew the word out with a mischievous quirk to her lips.

There was entirely too much there to unpack, but Martin was distracted by something else at the moment.

“Wait, I know your voice. You’re- you’re not Georgina Barker, are you? From _What the Ghost_?”

She grinned at him. “Oh, Jon. He’s a fan.” She folded both hands on Jon’s shoulder and laid her chin on them, staring up at him pleadingly through her lashes. “Can we keep him?”

Jon pulled his head back so he could scowl down at her properly. “ _We_ aren’t doing anything with him-”

Martin was going to need a hospital after this conversation if they didn’t stop saying things that made his heart stutter.

She flapped her hand at him dismissively. “Fine! You get to keep him; I just get to come over and play occasionally. Oh, that sounded much less suggestive in my head. Look, Jon, he’s adorable when he blushes. Goodness, his freckles have almost disappeared!”

“Leave him be, Georgie.”

Martin thought of the mug. He pursed his lips and glared at Jon. “You didn’t feel the need to let me know you knew her while I was going on about the podcast earlier?”

Jon shrugged. “I try not to claim her unless absolutely necessary.”

Georgie slapped him on the arm. “Rude. Well, since Jon was an inconsiderate ass and didn’t introduce us,” she talked right over Jon’s protest that she hadn’t stopped long enough to give him the chance and held out a hand to him, “I’m Georgie Barker, former girlfriend and current best friend extraordinaire.”

He shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Martin Blackwood.”

“The coworker,” she supplied in a tone that indicated he was anything but. She followed it up with a sly wink.

“For an ex, you are entirely too invested in my social life,” Jon complained.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You just don’t know how good you have it. Hell, it could be your ex-boyfriend standing here instead.”

Jon’s lips curled in a sneer. “Christ, you’re right. That is literally the only way this could be more awkward. Though at least Robert had the decency to move away from London instead of renting a flat just down the street.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t love seeing me more often. You know you missed me.” She pinched his cheek.

“I’m rethinking my initial excitement.”

Martin watched them go back and forth, a comfortable ease to their banter that made him both happy to witness it and painfully aware of the lack of anything like it in his own life. He had Tim, which was not a small thing, but it wasn’t this. Tim cared about literally everyone around him and could chat with someone he’d just met as if he’d known them for years. But this was...intimate.

Jon’s smile was radiant as he traded light-hearted barbs with Georgie, and his fondness for her was written all over his face. It was beautiful. His heart ached, not just with the desire to have Jon look at him like that, but with the sudden realization that there was no one in his life that knew him like this. Too many secrets to hide to let anyone get that close. Not that very many had tried anyway.

Jon looked over at him. He rolled his eyes conspiratorially at something Georgie was saying, and for just a moment that brilliant smile was for him. He grinned back, and somehow Jon’s face seemed to light up even more. They both jumped as Georgie whooped loudly. “Ooh, food!” She gleefully waved back to her companion as the waitress was trying to fit a ridiculous number of dishes on the table. “Gotta go, boys! Love you.” She leaned in and kissed Jon’s cheek again.

He returned the kiss and without hesitation, “Love you, too.”

She surprised Martin by pulling him into a tight hug before pecking him on the cheek as well. “Martin, it has been lovely getting to _finally_ meet you. I do hope I’ll be seeing more of you.”

“Uh...yeah, I’d like that.”

“Brilliant!” She winked at him again as if they were sharing some sort of inside joke. “You boys have a good rest of your ‘not-a-morning-after’ morning!”

Their tea had just arrived when they turned around. The waitress was staring at them with a small notepad ready. Jon immediately rambled off an order by memory, and Martin told her just to double it. As soon as she had walked away, Jon reached to pull the teabag out of the cup; Martin’s hand jerked to stop him. He caught himself, but Jon had noticed the movement. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Just...not yet. It needs at least half a minute more.”

“Do you have an internal tea timer, Martin?”

“No, it’s the color. It’s not as dark as you like it yet.”

“Is that why I can never find tea that tastes as good as yours? You’ve absolutely ruined me to everything else, you know? Nothing is better than just ‘okay’ anymore unless you made it.”

It took a lot of effort for Martin not to preen at that. “One of the reasons...Can I?” He motioned to the cup, and Jon pushed it across the counter to him. His cup was just as he liked it by that point; so he removed the bag before turning his attention back to Jon’s. By the time he’d retrieved the sugar and milk, it was perfect. He added a teaspoon of sugar and then another half one, before pouring in almost twice the milk Jon thought he took. He stirred it and pushed it back towards him. “Try that.”

Jon was looking at him skeptically, but raised the cup none-the-less. It was likely a bit too warm, but he still made a little happy noise. “Are you seriously telling me that I don’t even know how I take my own tea?!”

Martin smirked and turned back to prepare his own cup. “I started out making it like you asked, but I noticed you’d grimace a little when you took the first sip. Which is not what tea is supposed to do. I don’t even think you knew you were doing it, like you didn’t know it could be better than that. So I started fiddling with it a little each time until you’d take a drink and smile, which is how it’s supposed to go.” He risked a glance at Jon out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at him, cup frozen halfway to his lips. _Shit._ “Sorry, that probably sounds creepy, I guess-”

Jon’s hand covered his on the counter, and the world stopped. “Don’t apologize for paying more attention to me than I do. It’s not creepy...It’s really sweet, actually.”

“A good cup of tea helps me when I’m spiraling, and I knew you were dealing with a lot. So I wanted you to have something like that. Something good.”

He still hadn’t moved his hand, and when Martin looked up at him, he was shaking his head a little.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out how I missed for so long just how much _more_ you are than what I thought.”

“Good ‘more’?”

Jon grinned and squeezed his hand before finally letting go of him. “It’s a fantastic ‘more.’ But don’t think you’ve distracted me so much that I didn’t notice the three sugars and massive amounts of milk you just added to your cup. You could have told me I made it all wrong for you.”

Martin ducked his head, but didn’t try to hide the smile. “To be fair, I was still a little afraid at that point that I was going to be fired.”

Jon laughed, and that’s how it went for the rest of breakfast. After clashing for so long, somehow it was just easy now. Martin asked about the museums he visited, and Jon was still excitedly recounting the William Blake exhibit he’d visited at the Tate the previous weekend when their food arrived. Jon nudged his arm as Martin stared at the ridiculously large pile of whipped cream, fruit, and waffles in front of him. “Told you they were legendary.”

“That’s just...Sinful is the only word that comes to mind.”

Jon grinned, and they both dug in. Jon could hardly be bothered to eat lunch at work, but Martin was starting to think he made up the caloric deficit on the weekends with how quickly he was making his way through the dish.

He had expected the conversation to lag once they were eating, but Jon quickly proved to be more than willing to talk around a mouthful of waffle when the subject interested him enough. After Martin confessed to being familiar with Blake’s poetry but not so much with his art, Jon launched into how the two related, which led to a heated debate about symbolism and which poets used it effectively.

Then Martin mentioned Keats.

“Nope. That’s it. I take back every nice thing I’ve said about you this morning. Keats? _Really_?”

“I take it you’re not a fan. Shame, and here I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Sadly, no. A fondness for overly dramatic lyrical poets is where I draw the line.”

Martin laughed as he argued, “They’re love poems! They are supposed to be dramatic! You just don’t understand romance.”

Jon huffed. “That’s an understatement. Never have. Never even saw the appeal of it until recently.”

“Recently?”

Jon’s face went instantly red. He was still stammering, trying to settle on a response when Georgie called out behind them. “Bye, boys!”

They both turned to wave to her. She blew a kiss at Jon and then winked at Martin. The other woman nodded at them. She dodged quickly around the table to tuck in close to Georgie as they headed towards the door and laced their fingers together. The smile that Georgie flashed down at her was much softer than the teasing grins he’d been getting.

When Martin looked back to Jon, he was still watching the pair through the diner’s windows as they huddled closer in the chill and headed off together. The corner of his mouth was curled up in a lovely smile.

“That looks like it might end up being more than a one-night fling,” Martin mused.

“I hope so. It’s been too long since she had someone good in her life.”

“She’s got you.” His breath caught as Jon turned back to him. He was still wearing that soft, sweet smile, and the way his eyes searched Martin’s face brought back something else from the night before.

Tim and Sasha had been arguing about something, and Martin had realized that Jon had gone quiet. He’d looked over to find Jon staring at him. Or at his hands in particular. His eyes tracked the movement of Martin’s fingers as he idly traced the rim of his glass. The gaze drifted slowly up his forearms as if he were searching for patterns in the freckles scattered there. Martin’s heart was pounding, but he forced himself not to fidget as Jon’s eyes swept painstakingly up his arms and across his chest before finally reaching his face. He was staring so intently that it took him a few seconds to realize Martin was watching him. His face flushed when he did, but he didn’t look away. It could have been the alcohol distorting the moment, but it felt like they had simply stared at each other for several minutes. Then Jon had let out a slow exhale, sounding almost as if he was giving up on something. He’d blinked, and in that instant everything- not just his expression, but everything about him- had _softened_. Slowly, a shy smile had spread across his mouth, and Martin had been overwhelmed momentarily with how beautiful the change was on him. Finally managing to get his lungs under control again, he’d sucked in a breath and returned the smile hesitantly. 

He’d been so enraptured by the sight that he’d barely felt Tim lean into his shoulder.

“Holy hell, Martin. He’s looking at you like-”

Martin had jumped at the sudden whisper in his ear, and Tim’s cup had tipped. 

He was pulled back to the present when Jon turned away from him back towards the counter, picking up his cup to swirl the last remnants of his tea. “Don’t think I really count as someone good,” he said quietly.

“Of course you do.”

“How can you- of all people- think that?”

“Not liking me doesn’t mean you are a bad person.” Jon started to protest, but Martin cut him off. “Yes, I know that first part isn’t true. Now.”

“But I was _awful_ to you, Martin.”

“And we’ve already covered that I understand why, even if I was missing a few of the explanations-”

“Excuses,” Jon muttered.

“Jon.” He said it with enough force that the other man looked up at him immediately. “You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted. Rehashing all of this is not going to make either of us feel better. I’d really like to move on from here.”

He blinked a few times in surprise before he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You’re just going to have to accept that I never thought you were a bad person. I knew you were nice...I saw it...That is, I saw you. With the cat at the Institute.”

“You know about her?”

“Turns out she’s been playing us, and we were both feeding her. You always get there before me though so I didn’t know. I’ve been trying to get her to come to me so that I could have her checked to see if she’s fixed, but I’m a bit big and clumsy. She would never let me get close enough. But I came in early about a month ago to try to catch up on some statement follow-up, and I saw you outside the employee entrance. You were sitting on the ground in your nice clothes with this dirty alley cat curled up in your lap, purring so loudly I could hear her from where I was. I didn’t want to bother you so I ducked back around the corner before you noticed. You kept telling her you needed to get to work, but you never made her move. You didn’t go in until she wandered off.”

Jon was smiling at him again. “She is fixed by the way. Rosie had her checked out before we moved into the Archives. Martin...I was out there with her that morning for over 20 minutes. Did you really just wait there till I went in?”

His cheeks flushed. “You seemed so happy...I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Jon’s hands clenched on the counter then released, and he exhaled exactly as he had the night before. He turned towards him, and there was something in his expression that made Martin’s breath hitch.

“Martin...I-”

“Wait!”

_Oh, God, am I actually going to do this?_

“I don’t know what you’re about to say, but it feels like it might be something big. Before you do...I need to tell you something. It might change what you say, because, umm, I’m not who you think I am. I’m certainly not as good a person as you seem to think I am.”

Jon sat back and pursed his lips. “Okay…”

Martin took a deep breath and barreled forward. “I lied on my CV. I don’t even have a degree, much less a Masters. And all the work experience is made up. I’m not- I’m actually only a few months older than you.”

Jon’s expression was unreadable when he chanced glancing up. So was his tone when he asked, “Why?”

Martin noticed that he had been wringing his hands; he forced himself to lay them down flat on the counter. “My mum...she’s sick. My dad took off when she got diagnosed; so it’s just been me and her most of my life. I had to quit school when I was 17 to take care of her, but it turns out you can’t really support two people and cover medical costs on a dropout’s salary. After a few years of struggling to make ends meet every month, I was desperate, and I started making up experience. Elias was the first one it actually worked on...though I’m still not convinced that he didn’t know. It’s not like I had a fake ID to match the age on my application. I just told him they’d made a mistake in the year, and I hadn’t bothered to get it fixed yet. He didn’t even question it. Still haven’t figured out why....I’m so sorry, Jon. I didn’t know you were worried about it- that- that my lies made it worse for you. And I thought I’d pick it up, but you’ve had to do so much more work because of my mistakes. I can go to Elias on Monday and tell him everything-”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

Martin’s eyes snapped up to find Jon looking at him somewhat awed. “Martin, that’s amazing- What you did is amazing! You walked into an academic position when you were barely more than a teenager with no experience or formal education and did well enough to not be fired. Not just that, but to get a promotion.”

“After seven years and to a job I’m terrible at.”

“But you’re not! I was nitpicking your reports, because I thought they were written by someone with damn near a decade of experience. You’d never done any of this before a few months ago, but there is so much you’ve picked up in that time. And all on your own too, since your supervisor certainly wasn’t being helpful.”

“So you don’t want me to transfer back?”

“Absolutely not. I can teach you the details, but there’s no way I could learn to put people at ease like you do. We need that for the people who come in to give statements.”

“You do have Tim, though.”

“Yes, and he is effective in certain situations, but his ‘charm’ isn’t always the best approach. It doesn’t work on someone like me.”

The words were out before he could really consider them, “But mine does?”

Jon blushed but didn’t hesitate to answer. “Pretty sure this morning has more than proven that to be true.”

It took a moment for Martin to get his breathing under control enough to respond. “I wasn’t trying to- I don’t want you to think I was trying to make you happy so you wouldn’t fire me. It wasn’t an act...any of it.”

“I think that’s the point. Tim’s a great guy, but when he turns on the charm, it’s so over the top. You’re just _kind_ , and even a grump like me isn’t immune to that.”

“I don’t think you’re a grump.” Jon arched an eyebrow at him. “Okay, at least not all the time. You aren’t this morning.”

“That’s all due to the company.”

Martin’s face was burning. He’d hate to see the color of his cheeks right now. He looked down at his hands, and the moment Jon’s gentle smile was out of his sight, the doubts came crashing back in on him. “You’re not mad?” he asked quietly.

“Of course not. You did what you had to.”

“And you’re not disappointed that I’m not…”

He froze as Jon took one of his hands between both of his. “Martin, not a single thing about you is disappointing. And I can promise that my opinions of you are only improved by knowing you didn’t spend years of your life pursuing a _Masters of Parapsychology_.”

The disdain in Jon’s expression made Martin giggle. “Don’t make fun. I was young, and it sounded cool.”

“It sounds ridiculous!”

“It really does,” Martin conceded, still shaking with laughter. “He had to have known. There’s no way he believed it. I spent the first couple of months thinking he’d hired me for a laugh, and as soon as the humor had run out, he’d sack me. But it never happened. No idea why.”

Jon squeezed his hand gently. “Because you make it better.”

Martin just blinked at him.

“The Institute, the Archives, all of it. It’s better because you’re there. I’m sure Elias realized that.”

Martin felt his jaw tremble and ducked his head quickly, squeezing his eyes tight to try to keep the tears from falling. His whole life Martin had been overwhelmingly aware of how easily he ruined things. Always too big, too slow, too awkward to be anything other than in the way of everyone else. Especially when he tried to be helpful, and he wanted so badly to be of use to the people around him.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was soft, and he was brushing his thumb across Martin’s knuckles. “Are you okay?”

He sucked in a shuddering breath, but didn’t risk looking up yet. “I-I never thought I’d hear you...or anybody, really, say that about me. That’s not how I feel most of the time.” 

“Then I’m just going to have to start saying it more often till you believe it.” 

They were staring at each other again. After a few moments, Jon’s face pulled down into a scowl, and he glanced to the side. Martin followed his gaze to find the waitress standing there awkwardly, looking back and forth between them. Silently, she slid the check across the counter and fled. They both reached for it, but Jon was faster. “Don’t even think about it. This is my apology breakfast so I’m paying.”

Martin held up his hands in surrender, already mourning the loss of Jon’s long fingers wrapped around his palm.

Jon held the door for him again on the way out. It had not warmed up much while they were inside, but Jon still insisted on walking him to the station. Martin put up a cursory protest, but the truth was he wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Thank you for making sure I was safe last night and for offering your couch.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure.”

“And thanks for this morning...I’ve had a really good time.”

Jon was staring at the sidewalk as they walked, but he smiled. “Me too.”

“We should do this again. Maybe sometime when I don’t feel like death when I wake up and smell like a distillery.”

Jon chuckled. “We should. Perhaps something other than breakfast. Maybe…”

Martin held his breath waiting to see how that sentence would end. Instead Jon stopped suddenly and clenched his jaw. He turned toward him. “No, I’m going to do this properly. Martin, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I really would.” Jon’s smile in response erased the embarrassment of just how quickly he answered.

“Tonight?” Jon asked immediately, but then he shook his head. “Sorry, that was, um, _eager_ of me. You probably have plans-”

“I’m free tonight.”

“Oh! Alright- Wait, I should have said before I asked- It’s just that , well, I am technically your boss-”

“I didn’t say yes, because you’re my boss, Jon.”

“I sincerely hope not, but I still feel like it needs to be said, just to be sure. You do know that you can say no? I would never hold that against you.”

“It never occurred to me that you would, but regardless, I still very much want to have dinner tonight...with you.” 

“Right! Good! I thought, you know, in case there are questions at work, it would be best to get that out of the way.”

“I’m not going to get you in trouble, am I?”

“No, as I’ve recently been informed, the Institute has apparently very lax restrictions when it comes to workplace relationships.” When Martin looked at him questioningly, Jon blushed and looked down at the pavement between them. His hands were still stuffed into his pockets, and he was rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked so much more his own age now than the scowling, tired Archivist he was used to. His chest filled with overwhelming fondness, and Martin’s heart gave a panicked lurch as he realized just how deep he already was. “It would seem that Georgie is not the only one to figure out how I felt...She’s just the one that figured it out before I did. But Sasha came into my office yesterday afternoon to inform me that I would be attending Tim’s party and then gave me a very thorough presentation on how dating you would not violate a single one of HR’s policies.”

“So the same day that Tim comes up with the brilliant plan to get me drunk enough that he was hoping I’d just kiss you, Sasha comes to you with a detailed list of all the reasons why it could happen? A: There is no way they didn’t coordinate this. And B: I definitely got the short end of that stick.”

Jon laughed and looked back up at him. “It would seem that everyone knew except us.”

“That explains a lot about Georgie’s reaction to me.”

Jon groaned. “Subtlety has never even been in her vocabulary. I was afraid she was going to ask you out for me.”

“I still would have said yes, but I’m really glad it was you that asked.”

That tender smile was back, the one that made it feel like his heart was doing cartwheels when he saw it. “I’ll text you later with details? Anything you absolutely don’t li-” Jon’s jaw snapped shut with an audible clack as he shivered violently when a particularly strong gust of wind swept down the street. Martin made a small noise of concern and stepped in closer.

“You should take my jacket.”

“Absolutely not. I only have to go a block. You have half the city to cross, and Tim made a mess of your shirt.”

“Yeah...but you’re cold.”

Jon sucked in a breath, and there was something in his expression that Martin couldn’t quite read. Well, maybe he was allowed to just ask now. “What are you thinking?”

Jon huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look away. “I just really want to kiss you right now.” As soon as he said it, he looked mortified.

His stammering went silent when Martin replied softly, “Okay.” Jon froze for a moment like he was giving him a chance to change his mind. When he didn’t take it back, Jon surged forward, hands pulling free of his pockets to fist in Martin’s jacket as he rose up onto his toes to reach his mouth. There was just tension at first, hard lips pressed bruisingly against his and bodies held rigid and unsure. Jon wobbled a little, and Martin settled his hands on his hips to stabilize him. That was all it took. Jon pressed into him, and his lips softened, parting slightly to slot perfectly with his. Martin let his arms slide around Jon’s waist, holding him up so he wouldn’t have to balance on tiptoe. Slowly the hands clutching at his jacket relaxed, flattening against his chest before skimming up to clasp behind his neck. Martin’s head swam as Jon sighed against his mouth.

He felt the soft brush of Jon’s tongue against his lips just a moment before someone nearby yelled, “Oy! Get a room!” They both startled back and turned to see the woman who’d had breakfast with Georgie standing a few meters away at the top of the stairs down into the station. She was grinning at them, and even more distressingly, seemed to be taking a picture with her phone. “Georgie is going to love this!” she shouted gleefully as she disappeared down the steps.

Jon groaned and pressed his face against Martin’s chest. “Fantastic. She’s going to be absolutely unbearable about this. I’m surprised she’s not alr-” His phone dinged in his pocket. He sighed, but made no move for the device as it chimed three more times in quick succession. Martin chuckled and pressed his nose into Jon’s hair. It felt natural, even though not more than ten minutes ago he never would have imagined being allowed such an indulgence.

“You should answer her. You need to go get warm anyway; so you might as well get it over with.”

Jon pressed in closer, allowing Martin’s arms to tighten further around him. “I am warm now.” There was no way Jon hadn’t heard the way his heart reacted to that from where he was. He did push back from Martin after a few moments though. His nose was wrinkled in disgust. “You really do need a change of clothes though. I think Tim owes you a new shirt, because whatever he was drinking smells foul.”

“I think I might just need to burn it.”

“Go catch your train, and I’ll text you later,” Jon said, grinning at him.

“Alright.” They both started to turn, but paused at the same time. Martin moved first though, stepping close again and leaning in to press a quick, soft kiss to Jon’s lips. It took just a beat too long for Jon’s eyes to blink open as he stepped back. Martin couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the dazed look on his face. “I’ll see you tonight, Jon.”

Before Jon could respond, his phone rang. He rolled his eyes and reached for it this time. “If she’s resorting to an actual phone call, she’s not going to give up. I’ll see you later.” He reached out and squeezed Martin’s hand once before turning to head towards his flat. Martin was just starting down the stairs into the station when he heard Jon’s voice. “Hello, Georgina...I am aware...Yes, I did, and if you and your girlfriend would mind your own business, I’d probably still be kissing him!” The rest was lost to the sound of a train departing below.

Martin was in a haze as he walked out onto the platform. He’d kissed Jonathan Sims. Actually, Jonathan Sims had kissed _him_. And asked him to dinner. This was definitely not how he had imagined this weekend going. At best, he’d hoped to be on civil terms with Jon by the time they returned to work Monday. This was infinitely better. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the light touch on his elbow. He looked down to see Georgie’s breakfast date beside him. It wasn’t until this moment seeing her up close that he realized he knew her.

“You’re Melanie King, aren’t you?”

She blushed, but did a rather poor job of hiding her pleasure at being recognized. “Yeah, uh, and Georgie said your name was Martin, right?”

He nodded and shook her hand. “Martin Blackwood.”

“So, Georgie mentioned that you two weren’t...I think I...Was that a first kiss I just fucked up?”

“No! I mean it was the first, but I’d say more interrupted. Certainly didn’t feel like you ruined it to me.”

“Sorry about that. I have something that might make up for it though. Here.” She handed him her phone. “Type in your number.”

He looked at her skeptically but did as she asked. He handed it back, and after several taps on her screen, he felt his own phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out to see that he had received a picture from an unsaved number. He opened it, expecting to see a shot of the two of them startled and staring at the camera, but it turned out she had snapped another one just before she’d called out to them. Jon’s arms were around his neck, and Martin had him almost lifted off the ground. From the angle, he could see most of Jon’s face. His eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, and utterly lost in the moment.

“Don’t think many people get to have a picture of a first kiss, so I thought you might appreciate it.”

“Oh...Thank you! This is- wow.”

“No problem. See you around, Martin. Seems like we may be spending some time with each other soon.”

“Went well for you too, then?”

Up to this point, Melanie’s smiles had an aggressive intensity to them that made Martin just a little uncomfortable. Now she looked just like anyone else that was utterly smitten. He was pretty sure he was sporting the same small, dazed smile. “Yeah, it really did.”

Her train arrived shortly after, and she gave him a nod as she disappeared into the car. He was left relive the feeling of Jon’s lips on his for a few minutes.

He was just stepping onto his own train when his phone rang. For a moment, he was sure it would be Jon calling to say he’d woken up from his temporary insanity and suggest they both forget the morning had ever happened. He held his breath as he looked down. Tim’s grinning face leered up at him, a picture Tim had taken himself and attached to his contact one of the many times he’d stolen Martin’s phone. He sighed in relief and answered as he found a seat with at least a little space around it so that his conversation wouldn’t disturb the other passengers.

“Hello, Tim.”

“Good morning, Martin!” He flinched back from the volume of the greeting. “Or I hope it has been. A little birdie told me you were seen getting into the back of a cab with one Mr. Sims. The Institute gossip lines are all a-buzz already.”

“Not sure that where I spent the night is any of your business after you abandoned me.” He saw the eyebrow of the woman closest to him shoot up at his words, and he lowered his voice even further. “Seriously, you made sure I was borderline plastered and then you bailed and left me there to make an idiot of myself.”

“Did you?” _How did he manage to sound equally amused and concerned?_

“No, or not that I’ve remembered so far at least.”

“Well, there you go; no harm done. I am sorry about that though. Something came up.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what was more important than chaperoning the mess you got me into. Jon saw you leave with Emma. Tim...I told you what she’s been through when I asked to invite her. You knew...she’s not ready for anything, and you knew that.”

The tone of Tim’s reply was purposefully light, but Martin could pick out the undercurrent of hurt laced through his voice. “I didn’t take advantage of the situation. Come on, Martin. You know me better than that, I’d hope. She approached me. Said she’d heard I was a nice guy who wouldn’t get clingy and who also happened to be a fantastic lay. I told her that her sources were both very kind and highly accurate. So I took her to my place, and for an hour, we talked, just talked. When she was still interested and I knew for sure that she was sober and emotionally with it enough to know what she wanted, I spent a few hours making sure that douchebag was the furthest thing from her mind. She left here about 20 minutes ago- after I made her breakfast, I might add- well-shagged and smiling from ear to ear.”

Martin grimaced. “I’m sorry, Tim. I shouldn’t have doubted; I do know you better than that. I was just worried about her. I wouldn’t have thought she’d be interested in-”

“You are such a sweetheart, but we have got to get you to let go of the notion that sex has to come with strings attached. I know you’re a hopeless romantic so you don’t get the appeal of being shagged senseless and then just walking away, but some of us enjoy it thoroughly. Speaking of being shagged senseless…”

“Nothing happened last night.”

“Damn. He was being so nice, and I could have sworn he was flirting with you a few times. Or at least what would pass for flirting in Jon’s world. Almost thought he’d been body-snatched like that one statement we found. And the way he was smiling at you. You’re sure nothing happened?”

“I am absolutely positive nothing happened...last night.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath over the noise of the train. “Martin, Marto, buddy, are you insinuating that something happened this morning? Tell me everything.”

“Well after I managed to recover from the aftereffects of your brilliant plan, he took me out for breakfast.”

“And?” The excitement was building in Tim’s voice.

“And then he walked me to the station.”

“Martin! You are killing me-”

“Then he asked me out to dinner tonight and kissed me.”

He almost dropped the phone in surprise at the sheer volume of the whoop that came out of the earpiece. Several of the passengers halfway down the car looked up as the sound echoed. The woman near him was trying to hide a grin behind her hand.

“I knew it! I knew he had it bad for you!”

“Did you know it or did Sasha tell you? Because apparently she approached Jon yesterday.”

“Sasha merely _confirmed_ what I already knew.”

“So you two were in on this?”

“Of course we were. You two would have spent years pining after each other if we hadn’t intervened.”

Martin sighed. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“So, dinner tonight, huh? Whatcha gonna wear?”

Panic spread through him. Somehow in his excitement for the date being so soon he hadn’t considered that he’d actually have to get ready within a matter of hours. There were so many things he needed to overthink! “Shit! I have no idea…”

“No worries, buddy. I’ll be at yours in an hour and we’ll see what we can put together that doesn’t involve a jumper and some corduroys.”

“And we’ll Facetime Sasha so she can save me from all your terrible fashion choices.”

Martin laughed as Tim feigned his offense. “I can’t believe- How dare you, Martin?”

“Uh huh, and what are you wearing right now?” He giggled as the lady a few seats away choked and glanced up quickly at him.

“Hey, now! You leave my booty shorts and Pikachu slippers out of this. They are a perfectly valid combination for post-coital breakfast making!”

They both broke down laughing. Eventually Martin quieted, still smiling warmly as he listened to his friend snicker. “Hey, Tim...thank you.”

Tim could always turn on a dime, and his response was just as heartfelt as his laughter had been. “I got you, man. We’re gonna sweep him off his feet, and he’s gonna be so happy that he’ll forget how to be a grouch. Then all of us will get to benefit from your sex life.”

“Jesus, Tim. We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

“Oh, just you wait, Martin. This man will be in love with you by the end of the night.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Blake Exhibit Jon talks about is a bitter detail added just for me. I was supposed to take my first trip to England this summer, and the Tate was in fact featuring Blake's art, which I was going to get to see in person. There are MUCH bigger consequences from this pandemic, but that was a painful one for my itty bitty corner of the world.
> 
> If even one other person finds some serotonin in this, I'll consider it well worth the effort. Take care of yourselves.


End file.
